


It's Taken Care Of

by WayFish



Series: The Fight in the Dog [2]
Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Dogs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, One Night Stands, Rebound Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayFish/pseuds/WayFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could hear Abby at the back of his consciousness. “You need to bounce back from this,” she'd said. “I mean, you at least need to get laid.”</p><p>And now Jordan, Jordan Daniels, 27, internationally wanted hacker was sitting on his desk, looking up at him through his lashes, and kicking his Allstars against the metal drawer where Huck kept his tool bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set between "One for the Dog" and "752". 
> 
> In a previous Scandal fic, "How To Save A Dog" (which can be found in this series), I wrote about Huck getting his own dog. The dog is not imperative to this story, so you don't necessarily have to read the other fic. But, FYI, she does make an appearance.
> 
> I tried to keep the timeline canon but may have failed horribly. 
> 
> Also, I apologize profusely for any egregious spelling errors and/or ridiculous typos.

Olivia pulled Huck to his feet. His back and knees groaned in protest. She gave a sad laugh. “We’re too old for this aren’t we?” she said, and ushered him toward her office. It was a slow shuffle, out of his office and into the hall. And that was when the rumble of the elevator pulled his attention away.

 

“Quinn,” she called, “Are we expecting anyone?”

 

She appeared with a cup of coffee and a bottle of aspirin that Huck hoped was for him. “I don’t think so.”

 

There was a bright ding and the doors slid open to reveal a young nervous looking man. It was early. And a Saturday. They weren’t expecting any clients. Not that the young man looked like their usual clients. Abby and Harris barricaded him in the entry. There was a rise of chatter as they bombarded him with quesions and Huck wondered why they didn't recognize him.

 

“Huck?”

 

The young man was holding up his hands in surrender. His voice was thin and panicked but too far away for Huck to make out.

 

Quinn followed their gaze. And he watched her eyes widen with realization

 

“Do you know him?” Olivia said softly.

 

Huck swallowed hard. “I didn’t come home last night. He must be worried. I usually call if...” If he was going to be late? Going to be locked in a crate? If he was going to have a complete mental breakdown? He wasn’t really sure. He didn’t want to talk anymore and he gave a Olivia a pleading look, with the hope that she would figure the rest out for him.

 

“Oh.” She gave him a half surprised half sympathetic smile. “Well, I’ll call off the dogs then.”

 

“I can’t see him,” he said. “Not like this.”

 

“It’s taken care off.”

 

He was passed off to Quinn. And it left a sickly sweet ache in his chest; to be cared for and yet not trusted to be alone. Huck dropped onto the overstuffed sofa. The coffee and aspirin were put in front of him.

 

“I didn’t know-” she stammered. “I should have called him. I’m sorry. I didn’t think...”

 

"Just don’t let them interrogate him, ok?"

 

“Yeah. Yes, of course.” He heard more than saw Quinn pull the door closed behind her. And he let his eyes slip closed just for a second.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_14 Months Earlier_

 

“Hey.” Jordan, Jordan Daniels, smiled at him.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He’d only been gone long enough to top off his coffee. And now Jordan, Jordan Daniels, 27, recently charged with the illegal acquisition of thousands of confidential documents from Phillips and Myers pharmaceuticals, was sitting cross legged on the corner of his desk, keyboard in his lap.

 

“Do you wanna make out?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I know. It sounds kind of middle school. There really should be another term for it.”

 

“What did you do to my machines?”

 

“Nothing. As if I could.” Jordan, Jordan Daniels, 27, internationally wanted hacker, laughed. “But can you blame a guy for trying?"

 

Huck scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand. “Was there something you needed?”

 

“Well not _need_ per se. But there’s no one around and you’re cute. So...”

 

Daniels, originally of Boulder Colorado, the only son of Molly and Albert, had started university at 15, dropped out of Cal Poly Tech, MIT, Rutger and was by all accounts, a genius. An old article, from Advertising Age, that Huck had dug up for the file called him a prodigy. He’d done stints at Google, IBM, Dell, and could have been the next Jobs or Wozniak. But now he was staring up at Huck through his eyelashes, a mock bashful look on his face. Huck couldn’t remember ever having been called cute before.

 

He rolled his eyes. But he could hear Abby and Quinn at the back of his consciousness. What had they told him? After he’d rebuffed the girl at the coffee shop, the one with the short hair and glasses? Right, “If you look for the bad, or in your case ‘enemy operative’, in people,” Abby had quipped, “You’re sure to find it.” Cheesy and twelve-step sounding, sure. But truth was he clung pretty hard to the steps after Becky. Kate. Becky. Kate. It had only been a few weeks since. And it seemed that everyones idea of dealing with what had happened was to ignore it. To just treat him like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t been tortured. Like he hadn’t had his heart broken. “You need to bounce back from this,” Abby said. “I mean, you at least need to get laid.”

 

“Don’t look so scandalized. It’s not a marriage proposal. Just, you know-”

 

“I know, I know what it is,” Huck snapped. “Now, could you please just get off my desk.

 

“Sure. I think there’s a sofa in your boss's office.”

 

Huck took a deep breath. “You’re a client and there are rules and...”

 

He had opened his first software start up at 17. Would go on to run three more before he was 20. Sold them all for a tidy profit. Though you couldn’t tell by looking at him. The old man sweater over the ridiculous v-neck and thrifted corduroys didn’t exactly say genius or money. Daniels was skinny and tall, all awkward joints. He had a nice enough face, though. Soft features, high cheeks, big grey eyes, that Huck thought might have looked nicer if not for the shaggy, curly, bleached out hair. He swung his legs off the side of the desk and kicked his All Stars against the metal drawer where Huck kept his tool bag.

 

"... And can you stop doing that?"

 

Daniels stilled and leaned precariously towards him. “Come on. There’s no one around. I won't tell.”

 

At about 2009 there was a drop off in the kids timeline. And for reason that couldn’t quite be deciphered through extensive internet searches, it seemed that he’d given it all up to start hacking on behalf of various activist groups, naturally, under the moniker Wunderkind. Some bloggers said he was the best hacktivist alive. Bigger and better than Assange and Anonymous combined.

 

“Plus I’m bored and it would be fun. And...”

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok?”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Thing was, if the kid was really the best he wouldn’t have gotten himself found. Huck knew, technically, how this was supposed to go. But there were too many other variable, known unknowns to consider, so he just stood there, waiting until finally, thankfully, Jordan snagged the the drawstring on his hoodie and reeled Huck in.  

 

“So you’re not mad?” he said.

 

“Why, cause you caught me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Nah." Jordan raked his his nails over Huck’s stubble and kissed him. "It’s kind of hot, actually.”

 

Their initial client had actually been Phillips and Myers pharmaceuticals. Jordan had posed as a contract worker at the company. They’d given him a computer, server acess, and three days worth of pay. Three days had been all the time he’d needed to plant a worm in their system and lift a prolific amount of data. Phillips and Myers pharmaceuticals had called Olivia to take care of the impending mess.

Where they went wrong was lying to Olivia. Phillips and Myers failed to mention a few things.

One: Jordan. They'd come to her under the pretense that they didn't know where the leak had come from. But of course Huck had been able to track him down.

Two: Jordan had gone into their system fishing for information on animal testing, lobbying, kickbacks, that sort of thing. And that was all there. But what he also found were the results from of a clinical trial which showed that an expected to be profitable newly released drug caused slow fatal liver failure in a high percentage of users.

Three: They had more than one dog in the race, a trained cleaner that had been hired to take care of Jordan. When Quinn and Huck showed up at Jordan’s apartment, which was really just a squat in a warehouse, the other dog was already there. There had been a fire fight over who got to keep him and Huck and Quinn had come out on top. Jordan had a red angry bullet graze on his temple and a bruise blossoming on his chin to prove it.

 

When Huck brushed the bruise with his thumb Jordan led out a soft whine.

 

“Shit. Sorry.”

 

“It’s ok.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

You didn't lie to Olivia Pope. And whether she would admit it or not, Olivia had a soft spot for underdogs, and truth, and people just trying to do what they thought was right. Huck knew that better than anyone. So he hand't been at all surprised when she'd dropped P&M and agreed to take Daniels on as a client.

He pulled Huck closer, winding his arms around his shoulders and nipping at his jaw. Huck slipped his fingers under the ugly sweater, over his shirt and splayed them across the small of his back. Jordan, Jordan Daniels, tasted like coffee and Menthols and smelled just a little like cheap pot. Huck couldn’t keep from smiling.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks into his first tour he met Ray Watts; a tall, broad, blond, blue eyed, corn fed boy from the midwest. And late one night, after a day of fire fights, Ray Watts had kissed Huck hard and drunk on the mouth and told him, “It’s ok. Guys don’t count.”

 

And so began Huck’s involvement, or lack thereof, with men. Looking back he thought it was all a bit cliche. But he’d had trysts in real and proverbial trenches from Ray Watts to Taipei. It was a means to an end. Something to tide both parties over til they got home to their girls. He told himself it wasn't cheating because he never really kissed those men. Not like this anyway. Huck thought maybe that was why this seemed so different. Jordan seemed to make everything, every kiss and gasp and scrape of fingernails count. He hooked a leg on Huck’s hip, pressing as much of himself against him as he could. And Huck wasn’t really sure why but he wanted to meet him halfway. He wanted to make this count too.

 

When Huck fingered the catch on Jordan’s belt he stopped him. “No.” He sighed and laughed to himself. “I just... I’m not that kind of girl...” he said wryly. “Not here. Just...”

 

Huck cut him off with a kiss. “Ok.”

 

“Ok?”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Jordan rolled his eyes- “Shut up.” - and hopped down off his desk, grabbed a fistfull of his shirt and dragged Huck into Olivia’s office.  

 

* * *

 

He imagined this was what people meant when they said “Make Out Like Teenagers”. Just kissing. Just pressing up against another body. But no going any further. And doing it for hours. Until he was breathless and his head was spinning. Not that he would know, not personally anyway. While other teenagers were “making out” in basements and cars and best friends bedrooms Huck was getting all A’s in school, being lectured by his caseworker on how he’d needed to get good grades and stay out of trouble, and being yelled at by whatever parent he had at the time for taking apart their radios and remote controls.  

 

* * *

 

“Oh shit.”

 

Jordan Daniels, 27, internationally wanted hacker, was laying ontop of him. And to Huck’s quiet dismay he started to pull away. He wondered if he’d done something wrong. But in reality it was worse than that. He followed Jordan’s gaze toward the door.

 

“Oh shit,” Huck echoed.

 

Quinn, framed in the doorway, put her hand over her mouth, hiding a wide stupid grin.

 

“I... I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I was, I didn’t mean... I should have knocked...”

 

Huck gaped back at her. His first thought was that maybe he could deny this. But they looked far too undone. Huck’s shirt was mostly unbuttoned. Jordan was flushed and well kissed, his curls in tangles. The ugly sweater was long gone. Huck still had his hand’s caught up under his v-necked shirt, which Huck had decided was not so ridiculous, because it provided easy access to his neck, where Huck had sucked a rather attractive bruise. He was still scrambling for something to say when Jordan braced his hands on Huck’s chest and smiled  at her sweetly.

 

“Was there something you needed?”

 

“Yes. Um, yes, I was supposed to take you to our safe house until things calm down.”

 

“Of course. I’ll just get my things.”

 

Jordan disentangled and grabbed his sweater from the floor on his way out. As soon as he was out of earshot Quinn was gushing.

 

“Wow, Huck. I... I had no idea you were... Good for you! He’s so cute. And-”

 

“Please don’t...”

 

“I mean it. He’s got that nerdy hipster thing going on. So, I mean, of course two of you would... I mean wow!”

 

“Christ, Quinn, we only...”

 

“Oh, don’t worry.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “You’re secret’s safe with me.”

 

Huck scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s not a secret. It was just... you know, making out.”

  
Quinn threw her head back and laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn whisked Jordan away. The office was quiet again. Huck returned to his computers and pulled up the feeds for the apartment. Abby had joked that he’d installed more cameras than the big brother house. They arrive, first in the camera on the front door, then in the front hall. He got confirmation in his email that the doors had locked behind them.

* * *

Huck had been trying to sell Olivia on getting a safe house for years. But she’d never backed him on it. However, when he came back to work she seemed to have magically been swayed on the idea. She gave him free reign and funds and he’d thrown himself into the project. The apartment was modest, in an innocuous neighborhood. He’d picked the place himself, not to urban or suburban. Actually, it kind of looked a lot like his apartment. Huck set it up and locked it down to his own specifications; state of the art security, surveillance, silent alarm, signal jammers, the works. Olivia had cut him off when he said “panic room”. But one of the closets still had steel lined walls and a locked from the inside. Suffice to say, it was his baby and this was the first occasion they’d had to use it.

* * *

His first family was Tabitha, 24, waitress/night shift 7/11 cashier and her eight year old twin daughters, Melody and Emma. It wasn’t the watching. No. Voyeurs took pleasure from watching. No. He told himself that it was to keep himself sharp. In practice. But really, it was vicarious. They didn’t have the best hand perhaps. But they always looked happy. The twins hair was always neatly combed and braided. Tabitha was always talking sweetly to them, always working late. He fed of that second hand loved feeling for six months.

Tabitha got mugged just outside her apartment building. Or someone tried to mug her.

Huck broke the man’s neck and was gone before she ever saw his face.

 

* * *

 

The cameras posed a problem that he hadn't considered. They meant he had to watch. Watch while it happened. While the man, who was not wearing a mask but carrying a gun put his boot through the door. Watched him draw on Quinn.

He didn’t stick around long enough to see the rest. No matter what happened he already knew what he had to do. Huck grabbed his hoodie from the back of his chair and the duffle bag from under his desk and took the elevator instead of the stairs. By the time he made it to the street the phone was ringing. Quinn tearfully began to give him the details

“I don’t need to know that,” said Huck. “Is the kid alive?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And the guy, he got away?”

“Yes. He jumped the fire escape. It looked like he may have injured his leg. So-”

“Then he won’t have gotten far. It’s taken care of.”

 

* * *

 

He called Olivia hours later as he was unlocking his front door. The sun was just coming up. “It’s taken care of,” he said again.“I’ need to sleep. So don’t expect me in the office until later.” Huck didn’t wait for Olivia to respond and hung up.

Someone at meeting a few months back had talked about creating stability through habits. And he'd been trying to change since coming back to work, trying to be more stable. So he’d developed a habit. No, a routine. Habit was too charged a word. And it wasn’t easy with Olivia, with the job. So he’d started small: Come home. Set down his phone and keys. Hang his jacket. Let out a breath because the day was over. And pet the dog who never failed to greet him with overflowing amounts of love. But when he opened the door his routine was immediately interrupted.

He came around the corner to find Jordan asleep in his bed. Abby was sitting on his counter, blackberry in hand, cup of coffee halfway to her lips. And Jordan was in his bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts, curled around his dog. Jordan was in his bed.

“What the hell?”

“Oh, hey! You’re early.”

“What the hell?”

Abby hopped off the counter, her Louis Vuittons clicking on the floor, and herded him back out the door.

“Jesus, do not wake him up. I’ve been listening to him yammer most of the night.”

“Why is he here?”

“Olivia said you wouldn’t be here till later. But...” Her blackberry chimed and she held it up, the screen illuminating her face as she read. “Now she says that you are here, and you hung up on her before she could tell you. Tisk tisk, Huck.”

“Tell me what?”

She was already busy tapping out a reply to Olivia. “I had no idea you had a dog,” she said absently. “He seems... big.”

“Billie is a she. Why is Daniels here?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s just for a little while,” she said, still not looking up from her phone. “And we thought you would be excited to... you know”

“We?” Huck snapped.

“Well Quinn said that you two had a kind of thing going-”

“Did Quinn send out a press release, too?!” He realized too late that he was yelling. Abby’s eyes got steely and her hands curled into fists at her side. But before she could launch of a torrent of insults the phone in Abby’s fist wrang. She sighed, and hit the call button.

“Yes?” she nodded and shoved the phone at Huck. “For you,” she said.

He snatched the phone from her fingers. “Why have I been put on babysitting duty?”

“Hello Huck." Olivia was curt as always. “You weren’t. He just needs a place to stay.”

“Whatever Quinn told you... It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I can do this right now. ”

“I can go.” Jordan, rumpled and bed headed, peered around the door. “I have people,” he said. His eyes were wide and hurt. “Friends, in New York. Portland. I can go there. I can go wherever.”

“You tell him he will do no such thing,” said Olivia. “He will stay put. He will not answer the door or the phone. Is that clear?”

Huck sighed. “Yes.”

“And Huck.”

“Yeah?”

“I know I’ve already asked a lot of you. And I know you feel like you need to be alone right now. But if he likes you, let him. Oh, also, keep him away from... everything electronic.” She hung up on him.

Jordan squared his shoulders and put on a brave face. “Just give me a few minutes. I’ll make some calls and-”

Abby took her phone and clacked back into the apartment, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and leaving them alone.

“No," Huck sighed. "You’re not going anywhere. It’s safe here, until we’ve resolved your case.”

“How long will that be?"

“Not long...”

“... Hopefully.” Abby reappeared with her coat and bag. “As long as it takes. Our biggest concern right now is keeping you safe,” she said, through a forced smile. She turned to Huck. “I still can’t get over the dog thing. And an ugly dog too, it’s just weird. Anyway, night all!” She gave him a suggestive wink and headed up the stairs.

Jordan laughed and reached down to scratch Billie’s ears. “Don’t listen to her, dog face. You’re distinguished. She doesn’t know what shes talking about.” He and Billie headed back into the apartment.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he said, trailing behind them and locking the apartment door. “What I said, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded...”

 

* * *

 

He had his monthly sweep of Olivia’s apartment down to a science. He could be in and out in under 23 minutes. But usually, he wasn’t. Usually, he would stand in the atrium and and just look for a long time. Olivia's apartment was not just a space where she slept and kept her things. It was a home. It was designed and decorated for living in. For haveing guests. For having lovers. For drinking wine and eating popcorn and watching movies with quirky female leads.

He knew that she did not always get to do those things. She was more likely to watch the news than a Meg Ryan movie. And often, she slept alone. But it was the thought that counts and he liked that thought.

 

* * *

 

The only real house guest he’d ever had was Becky-Kate. There was decorum for such things. And he wondered if he should offer Jordan something to eat? Or drink? But he didn’t have to. Jordan had already made himself at home. Bits and pieces of him were all over, his green messenger bag, the ugly striped sweater, his blue tennis shoes, they were all strewn across counters and chairs and the floor. Jordan hit the power button on his antient gamecube and crawled back into bed. Billie followed and curled up beside him. Huck had forgotten that he even owned one and tried not to be mad that he’d gone through his things.

“... And, and I’m sorry about them,” he added. “I didn’t know that she would tell everyone. Not that it matters if they do know. I’m not embarrassed or anything-

“You know, I was nearly killed today. Twice,” Jordan mused. And waited for his game to load. “And now the people tasked with keeping me from an untimely end, the people supposed to be protecting me, are trying to set me up with their IT guy. That’s weird right?”

“I’m not IT. And I’m sorry about them.”

Zombies groaned to life across the television screen. And Jordan cocked back the dusty duck taped controller as he pegged off the oncoming horde, one by one. Billie sat up beside him, her eyes transfixed by the fray.  

“Oh no. I didn’t say it was bad.” There was a new wave of living dead. Jordan yelped and smashed buttons. “Surreal, definitely. But not bad.”

Billie leaned in and growled at the screen.

Jordan didn’t look up from the slaughter. “Do you wanna play?”

The limping zombies were drawing closer. Jordan was wearing just his striped boxers and Huck’s old Melvins tshirt. And he turned away from the screen and smiled up at him. Huck caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the outside of his thigh. The tiny pixelated man was massacred.

“Please.” He reached up, proffering the dusty controller.  “It’s been... a day. I could use the company.”

Jordan’s smile was sweet and pleading. And Huck could feel a flush rising up in his cheeks. He took the controller and saw that there was blood embedded in his nails

“Yeah, ok, why not.”

 

* * *

 

Harris bought him his first cactus. It was peace offering. Because he’d been kind of grossed out and afraid of Huck, at first. Choice words were used. There was a palpable irony to the fact that the theif so objected to the presence of the killer. Olivia had pulled Harris into her office for a come to jesus. And after that he’d had a hard time looking Huck in the eye. He hadn’t even delivered it himself, just left it on Huck’s desk with a note that said “Welcome to the team.”

After a month he hadn’t killed the cactus. And he like that feeling. So Huck moved on to other greenery. An aloe plant. Bamboo. They lived as well. And so he collection began to grow taller and broader and widely varied, becoming more delicate and ornate and temperamental. He’d accrued sensitive leafy tropical plants. Delicate vines. Flowers that only bloomed in the night. Orchids which required the most attentive care. He liked that feeling too. Usually, anyway. Keeping a plant alive was very different from keeping a person. And if there was one thing he was good at, it was not keeping people.

 

* * *

 

“So.”

“So?”

They took turns, switching back and forth every time the character died. Huck wasn’t very good, couldn’t coordinate the aim of his animated man’s gun. It didn’t feel natural. At first Jordan almost never died. But then he started taking hits on purpose to even things up. Huck pretended that he didn’t notice.

“So, if you wanted to, I don’t know, suck on my neck again I guess that would be cool.”

Huck tore his eyes away from the screen. His cheeks felt hot. A wry grin was making its way across Jordan’s face.

He knew his immediate answer should be yes. Jordan swam in his t-shirt. He’d be lying if he said he didn't want to touch him again. To splay his fingers over the tattoo. He’d mapped that new skin through cloth. And to get his hands on it bare. Well.  Now the cool dim white light of early morning was stretching through the kitchen window. And somehow, still, the idea of kissing Jordan just then seemed terrible.

“Not now,” he said finally

“You’re right. It was a one time thing. Just forget I said-”

“No. I mean not now but maybe later.

“Oh.” He squinted at the screen. The tiny man, who was now trailed by a tiny blonde girl, ran ran ran across the screen. Crouched behind a conveniently placed crate. Ran ran ran. “Can I ask why?”

Huck stared at his hands. What could he say: “Sorry. But only a few hours ago I was torturing a man. A man who threatened your life. I did it with my bare hands. Even I found myself surprised by the enthusiasm with which I completed the task. I think it had something to do with the fact that I was doing it for you. And now the thought of touching you with the same hands makes me a little nauseous?”

“Just not now.”

Jordan made it to the end of the level. The tiny man and the tiny girl were safe for the moment. The next level began to load and Jordan’s eyes darted over the grim look on Huck’s face.

"God, what’s wrong. Who died?"

Huck stared at his hands and silence stretched out between them. It wasn’t confirmation but it wasn’t a denial either. And this realization crossed Jordan’s face in a flash.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There was a slam and Huck gasped awake. A thud of something hitting the floor and he reached for the handgun in his bedside drawer. And someone was calling his name. The name he goes by now. Jordan was calling his name. And he was out of bed and turning the corner, weapon drawn.

“Jesus Christ!

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd been out. And he didn't mean to fall asleep.  But after that Jordan didn’t seem to be able to look him in the eye. And he didn't want to play anymore.

"You can sleep if you need to," said Jordan. "I'll be good. Scout's honor."

But Huck knew for a fact that he had never been a scout. So he got his laptop and put on his head phones. And he was going to do... something. But sleep was pulling him under before he could remember what it was.

* * *

Huck doesn't ussually remember his dreams. If he does they are blurred. And even skewed like that, they sometimes still felt familiar. More like memories than dreams. Sometimes he thinks he hears someone calling his name. Not Huck. But another name that is also his. A name that was given to him. Not one that he chose. 

* * *

 

It was Jordan. Dressed and wrapped, in one of Huck’s jackets. He had a brown paper sack and coffee in one hand, Billie's leash in the other. And at the sight of his gun they slipped from Jordan’s fingers. He let out a cry and crumpled to the floor, wrapping his arms around his head.

“It’s just me,” he cried. “I’m sorry. Please.”

“Ok, ok, ok.” Huck flicked on the safety, slowly so Jordan could see, and tossed the gun on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan cried from behind his fingers. “I know you told me not to and I’m sorry."

Billie was tethered to him by the long red leash still wrapped up in his hand. And she paced and let out a panicked whine. So Huck took a knee at Jordan’s feet and pulled his hands away from his face. 

* * *

 

Billie still flinched every time someone reached out to pet her. She’d been endlessly loyal and affectionate to him from the start. So much so that it was still a little shocking every time she greeted him at the door or tried to lick his face for twenty minutes. He couldn’t even fathom that type of love. But the great mutt was still suspicious of everyone else; Quinn, kids that they passed on the street during their evening walks, drive through attendants who tried to pass her treats. He wished he could have blamed it on childhood trauma. Or a mental illness. Or the time on the streets. But the truth was he had always been that way, too. Immediately fiercely loyal to some and a little at odds with the rest of the world.

 

* * *

 

He unwound the end of the leash from Jordan’s fist.

“Where did you go.”

“The coffee shop down the street. She was scratching at the door and... Breakfast... And I, I didn’t know what you would want, so-”

Huck felt lukewarm coffee seep into the knee of his jeans. The brown paper bag had ripped, spilling bagels across the floor. Billie snatched one up and scurried away, dragging her leash behind her. Jordan pushed him off.

“Were you followed?”

He shook his head. “I thought I was. And I walked for blocks to, like, lose them or whatever. But then I got lost and I -”

“Yes or no."

“I don’t know!”

If someone were following him they would have knocked down the door already.

“Did you use cash or a card?”

“You took all of my cards.”

“Cash or card.”

“A card.” Jordan snapped. “But it wasn’t mine.”

“So you steal credit cards now, too?”

“I’m sorry. I...”

 

* * *

 

He didn’t get a real girlfriend until college and it was mostly because it was what all the other guys were doing. She was a biology major. She was smart. She had green eyes. And her name was Esther. And she argued with him. And she made him laugh. And he liked her, he did. But she didn’t like that he wouldn’t hold her hand on the street. Or that at two months together they hadn’t had sex. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It just took him a long time to get close to people. To trust them.

 

* * *

 

“You should be dead,” Huck said flatly. “You keep taking risks like this you’re going to be-”

“I know!” And with that Jordan dissolved. Tears streaked his face and he hid behind his arms once more. And before he could lose his nerve Huck reached out and pulled him close.

 

* * *

 

His first foster family had met him at the door of their ranch home in the suburbs. The social worker had carried his suitcase because it was almost as big as him. This particular mother was nice, actually. The father to. She was a librarian. He was a college professor. She cooked. He read books. They had a cat and a daughter in college that sometimes visited on the weekend. And he had put out his hand to shake hers just as the social worker had told him. But instead they had pulled him into a hug. And he didn’t know why. But Huck had pushed them away with all of his eight year old might. And it wasn’t that they was cruel or uncompassionate or uncaring. They tried with him, they really did. But the incident had set the tone for the remainder of his stay in that home. Six months later he tried to run away.  But instead the state took him back and shuffled him off to another family.

 

* * *

 

Jordan shook as he cried and wound his arms tight around Huck’s neck. A patch of wet gathered and spread across the shoulder of his t shirt. Jordan’s hair smelled like exhaust and snow.

 

* * *

 

Becky had joked that it was like he was already married. To Olivia Pope. And that he already had a mistress. Quinn. And he’d frowned and tried to explain it away. But she’d just laughed and said, well, at least it’s an even number. But the truth was, he didn’t know how to explain it. He’d trusted Olivia with his life from the moment he met her. He knew he would have given his own for Quinn’s from the day that he left her in that hotel room. And then there was Becky, who he couldn’t bring himself to say no to, except for the one time it mattered. And it was just so exhausting and vulnerable, the hyperbole of it, faulty love and endless paranoia all mixed up into a constant ache in the pit of his chest.

 

* * *

Huck held him until the tears stopped, and Jordan sniffed and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes

Huck cradled his face in his hands. “God, you’re freezing.” Jordan still shook against him.   “You should, um, get in the shower. I’ll get you some clothes and-”

Jordan shook his head and clung a little tighter. “I’m not cut out for this,” he said.

Huck couldn’t argue.

“I mean I’m falling to bits and you’re cool and level and sneaking up on people with heavy artillery.”

Jordan wasn’t cut out for this. And in Huck’s mind that was the best thing about him. “A handgun is not heavy artillery.”

“Whatever.” Jordan fisted his hands in Huck’s shirt. “I don’t care. But I swear I’ll never so much as jailbreak an iPad again if it means I never have to see another gun ever. I just...”

 

* * *

 

Kate was right. They were the same. And he could be himself with her. But he’d fallen in love with Becky because he’d thought that she was not like him. Not too much, anyway. A little broken, sure. But who wasn’t? Mostly Becky was soft and kind and funny. She called him in the middle of the night to just say Hi. She insisted that he catch and release the spiders that she found on his bathroom floor.  

 

* * *

 

“...I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You need to stop being sorry and stop trying to get yourself killed.”

Jordan sniffed and laughed, sending more tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re really not just the IT guy, are you?”

Huck brushed the damp trails from his cheeks. “No, I’m not.”

“Then what?”

“You wouldn’t like me very much if I told you.”

“That’s my decision to make,” said Jordan. “Not yours.” And he ducked down, pressing his lips to Hucks chin and the hollow of his throat and this time he didn’t pull away.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, so I rewrote this chapter because I hated it before.

It was almost funny. But after everything, corporate espionage seemed like a walk in the park. Most day’s, it was the sort of problem Olivia Pope could have solved before finishing  her first cup of coffee. If not for the gun fire, fleeing, and hiding he would already be off their rolls. The solution was almost formulaic.

Jordan would be prepped for an interview with some spunky blond quaffed slightly, but not too, famous news caster. They’d give him a haircut, a new suit, and rebrand his as a whistleblower. Huck would engineer some twitter trends and Facebook groups to protest P&M Pharmaceuticals. Quinn would come with a new suit. And it would fit Jordan like a glove. And they would hide him in plain site, with the support of the nations vegan college kids and concerned mothers behind him.

After, there would be talk of a grand jury trial. But it would all be posturing. There would be a settlement, instead, for Jordan’s “pain and suffering” but also his silence. He would probably object at first. But Olivia would explain that he’d done all the damage he could do. You can’t take back bad press. The families affected could still take legal action. Probably would. Then they would be paid off as well. And he had to think “endgame”.

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure how long they lay in bed after. He might have slipped back into sleep. But when the world caught back up with them it did so with a crash. Their close and comfortable silence was ripped through by an electronic chime. And almost just like before, Jordan was peeling himself away.

He groaned and pulled one of the pillows over his head. “Fuck.”

Jordan laughed and kissed his neck before rolling out of bed. Seconds later the cell phone landed on his chest with a loud smack.

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s your boss.”

 

* * *

 

It was, perhaps, a bit cliche. Tumbling into bed with the scared and crying boy. Pope and Associates should have known better than to try to solve their problems with fucking. It was just another form of chemical escape. But it was worth it just for the after, when Jordan had collapsed on his chest, pressing his forehead to Huck’s shoulder. And his little room filled with perfect silence. Hot sticky breath. The drag of soft skin beneath his fingers. Soft sweat damp curls against Huck’s cheek. It was the type of instance that could trick you into believing that nothing could go wrong ever again. Jordan had kissed him and sighed something that may have started as words. But ended as more a contented hum.

 

* * *

 

The random lines of the elusive tattoo on Jordan’s thigh had amalgamated into a jellyfish the second he got his clothes off. It was delicate and winding and beautiful, stretching all the way from his ribs to his knee. And it was the only one he appeared to have. Jordan had shuddered and whined when Huck traced it with his fingers, which were trailed closely by his lips.

Jordan had called his name his. He’d clung to Huck and begged him, please, more, and Huck had red angry trails down his shoulders to prove it. He watched the jellyfish turn back into lines as Jordan slipped back into his underwear. He plucked Huck’s hoodie from the counter and pulled that on to. The phone rolled to voicemail then began to ring once more. He conceded with a sigh, blindly hit the call button and put the phone to his ear.

“Good morning Olivia.”

“Huck, it’s almost noon. I need you to-”

They’d locked the dog into the bathroom. She quite literally burst through the door the second Jordan opened it. And she didn’t come to Huck. Instead she jumped up, putting her paws on Jordan’s chest, tail wagging, seeming to have forgotten any previous tresspasses. He cradled her head in his hands, scratching behind both ears.

“I know. I know,” Jordan cooed. “He’s such a mean man, locking you in that room. It’s just awful. I know. How about some breakfast...”

“Huck are you listening?”

Jordan patted his thigh and Billie followed him to the kitchenette. He pulled open a few cabinets, found the dog food and carefully poured it into her bowl in the corner.

“Yeah. Interview. Hair cut. Internet. How far off?”

He left the dogfood on the counter and came back to bed, curling up at Huck’s side, his fingers playing along his chest.

“Quinn will be there in 20. And I’ll be by later-”

“OK. See you soon.” He hung up and tossed his phone on the bedside table.

“You’re going to cut my hair?”

Huck pulled the hoodie closed over his bare chest. “Unfortunatly. They’ll be here soon. We should probably get dressed.”

Jordan hummed and nuzzled in against his neck. “You mean we shouldn’t look like the cover of a porn magazine when your co-workers get here?”

Huck scrunched up his nose.“Magazines are analog.”

And Jordan puffed out a laugh. “Shut up.” He took Huck's hand and dragged him out of bed.

 

* * *

 

There was a video of Jordan called “Creepy Kid Predicts Future” on youtube. He’d found it doing research but didn’t add it to the file because it it wasn’t relevant and made him cringe. The video was 4:32 seconds long; news footage from some 60 Minutes-ish type show. It was supposed to be a feel good type of story about Jordan’s first software release. And oh the interview.

Huck liked reality television. Talk shows. That sort of thing. They were vapid and fascinating and he told himself that he could learn normalcy from their mundaneness. But if he was being honest the schadenfreude was satisfying. Except there was nothing fun about that interview. Jordan as was just so fidgety and awkward. He’d been a kind of soft child. Big glasses. Hair still wild. And he stared a million miles into space while talking about how one day people wouldn’t store things on hard disk. Information would just exist in the air where everyone could access it. It was hard not to wonder how he could go from being that kid, the too smart for his own good, singularly focused boy with the whole world at his fingertips to a not for profit criminal. But then again, Huck suspected that anyone could ask the same question of him.

 

* * *

 

“You smell good, like sex.” He stood on his toes and nuzzles up against the back of Huck’s neck. “But smell none the less.”

Jordan pushed him into the cramped shower. The water was warm and the stall was crowded with the two of them.

Quinn called it the The Dread. And it came and went with little explanation. Most mornings he stumbled into the shower, half asleep, without even thinking about it. But when It came It was volatile and visceral. The first time he’d blacked out, woke on the bathroom floor with a knot on his head and called in sick to work. It could last for days. And the only more abjectly dreadful thing he could imagine was having that kind of episode in front of another person. So he closed his eyes tight and tried not to think about the water beating down on his skin.

Jordan didn’t ask, just pressed a kiss to his shoulder, reached around him for the shampoo and, and Huck couldn’t remember the last time another person washed his hair. Maybe never. But when Jordan’s fingers pushed through his hair everything else fell away. All the words that came to mind to describe it seemed to cliche. But still, he let his eyes slip closed pressed into the touch, leaning back against Jordan’s chest, and before he could stop himself Huck let out something between a whimper and a sigh.

Jordan nipped at his ear. “We don’t have time,” he scolded. But he pressed Huck up against the tile and kissed him anyway.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t some sort of crouching tiger hidden dragon shit. His body wasn’t a weapon or anything. He didn’t have a gym membership. He was soft at the edges from too many hours in front of too many computer screens and one too many meals delivered to his door. But no matter what, no matter how soft or how clean his hands got, he still knew what he was capable of doing to another human. And that knowledge predicated every physical interaction in his life. Every handshake, hug, exchange of cash, brush of shoulders on the street, was loaded with the knowledge that he could just as easily put a phillips head screw driver down that person’s ear canal.

 

 

* * *

 

Jordan pulled them both off with one slim fingered hand as the water beat down on their shoulders. Huck came with a gasp as Jordan laughed and sighed softly against his ear. They dressed. He started booting up his machines. Quinn texted to say that she was close. She punctuated it with a winky face.

Jordan hopped up on the counter beside his laptop. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

And he reached out and touched Huck’s elbow. Just gently. Just his fingertips. And it was so demure, after everything, that it verged on the ridiculous. “For putting up with me,” he said. “And making me feel safe and better in a strange but good but probably unhealthy cinderella complex kind of way. And...”

Huck could feel his cheeks turning hot. And at that moment, thankfully, or maybe not, Quinn knocked on the door.

She came baring coffee and an armload of garment bags. “So how are you two?” she cooed. And Huck put on his headphones without a word.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Jellyfish didn’t have brains but they sometimes had eyes. Their thin filmy bodies aren’t strong enough to swim. So they get caught up in underwater currents, grouping together in Blooms. That’s what a group of jellyfish was called. A Bloom. Sometimes a Bloom could be thousands of jellyfish large.

 

* * *

 

His living room became a dressing room. The clothes were well fitted. Nice, but not too nice. Quinn tried to ask Huck if he thought Jordan should wear the black pant or the gray? Blue tie? Stripes? No tie? And he just pretended not to watch as Jordan slipped in and out of shirts and suit jackets. Pretended not to see the secret sly smiles that Jordan gave him.

The first time someone mistook Quinn for his girlfriend they were in the checkout line at Home Depot.

“I wish I had a man to help do repairs around the house,” said the woman behind the counter. “So how long have you been together?”

And Huck was, perhaps, a little too quick to correct her. He may have laughed. And it wasn’t that he didn’t adore Quinn. But it was like having someone imply that you were dating you sister. And it just seemed so ludicrous. Quinn and him? She was tall and bubbling and beautiful with her hair and nose and laugh and that face she made when she was trying to look tough. And in that instance she’d looked a little hurt. She’d tried to hide it, but not very well.

She made that same face now as he turned up his ipod and refused to answer her. But it was just one more thing he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about. Her hair and nose and laugh could do nothing to sway his anger this time. Because who was she to tell his secrets when he kept so many of hers? Even if it did mean that Jordan was changing in and out of silk shirts in his living room. He wouldn’t use the word betrayal but it was something close.

 

* * *

Olivia and Harrison came.

They sit Jordan in a chair. Show him how to do it just right; legs crossed at the knees not the ankles, hands just so, relaxed, a man of conviction, certainly not one who might be guilty. Olivia and Quinn sat opposite, on the sofa, which they'd folded up without changing the sheets. Huck tried not to think about that.

“So what lead you to suspect that P&M might be falsifying the data from the clinical trial?”

“Well, all you have to do is a google search and there are all these people talking about-”

“Don’t speculate. It makes you sound like a zealot. Start with something tangible.”  

“So...” Harris clapped Huck on the shoulder. “You and boy wonder,” he whispered.

Huck didn’t look up from his computer. “He’s not a boy. And don’t be weird about it.”

“Oh trust me. I’m not the one being weird.”

Quinn quick fired another question. “Well during the datamining process-” Jordan started.

“The average audience member will have no idea what that means,” Olivia sighed. “And if they can’t understand you they’ll think you’re a snob.”

“Look,” said Harrison, “If you’re worried because he’s a guy, no one cares. Everyone’s been there once or twice and-”

“What?”

“Look, all I’m trying to say is that this thing with you and Alan Turing over there-”

“Why does everyone think it’s a thing?”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “Whatever it is, you deserve it.”

“You know, I don’t remember asking for anyone’s approval or permission,” he hissed. “So you, Quinn, Olivia, you can all just stop.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. We just want you to be ok.”

“How do you know who Alan Turing is?”

Harrison rolled his eyes and didn’t talk to Huck the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

On Eil Malk island, in the North Pacific, there is a place called Jellyfish Lake, a lake full of jellyfish. A total anomaly. The product of glaciers shifting millions of years ago. They have evolved to be stingless because of lack of natural predators. So people come from all over the world to swim in this lake of stingless miracle jellyfish. In some cultures the jellyfish is a symbol of faith and trust. They exemplify the virtues of flexibility. Most jellyfish can reproduce asexually.

 

* * *

 

Like many people who were too smart for their own good, Jordan couldn’t really explain his process. He couldn’t dazzle or charm. And he couldn’t pander. Because it just made sense to him. And he obviously couldn’t see why it didn’t for everyone else. So the mock interview drew out into a full on interrogation. Because he wouldn’t or rather couldn’t keep to the script. Kept verging of the trail into tangents and political rants.

Olivia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her manicured thumb and forefinger. “This is your area of expertise. So you need to paint a picture for the audience. Just intriguing enough to engage them. Understandable enough that they stay on your side. True enough that no one can debunk you...”

“But I thought-”

She heaved another great sigh and Jordan sank down a little further in his chair and Huck wondered if she knew just how formidable she looked, towering over people in her nude stacked heels and well cut suits.

“We need to get this right,” she said.

“I’m trying. I just-”

Olivia mumbled something. Probably about how she shouldn’t believe that they were doing this for free. And Jordan shot him a pleading look from across the room. He was collapsing in on himself, drawing in his shoulders, averting his gaze to the space on the floor between his shoes.

“Ok. Here’s the story...” he said.   
And suddenly it was all eyes on Huck.

 

* * *

 

In Latin, Pelagia meant "of the sea", nocti stood for night and luca meant light thus Pelagia noctiluca: a marine organism with the ability to glow in the dark. Specifically a jellyfish that glowed in the dark. The protein that causes this bioluminescence could be harvested. There was a company that used it to make glow in the dark ice cream, which Huck didn’t really think he could get behind.

 

* * *

 

“It was a data analysis contract, right?”

Jordan nodded.

“So you were given access to everything. Or almost everything.”

“So?”

“So what do you do when you find a worm in a network?”  
Most people had them or had had them. Malware was the boogie man of the 21st century. And like the boogie man, most people had only vague conceptions of what malware was, but no real applicable knowledge. Approachable. Mysterious enough to be intriguing. He watched Jordan turn this over in his mind, a smile spreading across his face.

“You would... I would, I did try to eradicate the virus from their system. And that was when I found the partitioned part of their server and...

“Yes, yes, yes,” exclaimed Olivia. “Huck, thank you. Jordan, from the top”

 

* * *

 

They finished their mock interview/interrogation while Huck hit “Jellyfish” search, one more time, and wondered bitterly why this was so hard for him. To just have conversations. So he was google-ing talking points. Why did it matter so much?

 

* * *

 

The gladiators packed up and left with a promise to be back early the next morning. But Huck still had work to do.

“Oh my god. You’re boss is terrifying.”

“She’s doing her job,” said Huck. He hadn’t left his computer almost all day and there was a dull ache forming behind his eyes. “It’s important that you do well tomorrow.”

Jordan ambled over and reclined dramatically against the counter where he was working. “I mean like, terrifying in a cool way.” His t-shirt, Huck’s t-shirt, Huck’s t-shirt that Jordan was once again wearing rucked up, leaving a pale inch of skin between the hem of the shirt and the waist of his jeans. “A kind of sexy film noir villainess sort of way. But terrifying none the less. Can I use your phone?”

Huck wondered if Jordan was doing it on purpose. If it was like dogs exposing their bellies. Or some other social que he couldn’t pick up on.

“You already know the answer to that question.” Whatever it was, it made his cheeks feel hot.

“Please,” Jordan said sweetly.

“Olivia said-”

“Olivia said,” he whined

And in that moment Huck realized two things. He was staring, staring at the stripe of skin between the shirt that was his that Jordan was wearing and the jeans that rode way too low. He was staring at that skin and wondering what it tasted like. But more importantly, it hit him that Jordan was essentially a kid. Compared to Huck, he was definitely a kid. A kid that was so so so out of his depth. So Huck dragged his eyes away, up to Jordan’s mock pouting face, then back to his computer screens.

Jordan leaned close pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. “Let me see your phone, just for a minute.” Before Huck could protest Jordan’s teeth grazed his neck and his fingers slipped into Huck’s pocket.

“Why?”

“I want to take to you dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later they were walking down the street, the two of them, with the dog in tow. She was apoplectic and frankly, so was Huck. But for totally different reasons.

Huck almost never took her places where there were other people. Especially not lots of people, which he was willing to admit was more for him than for her. And now Billie tugged ahead on her leash, sniffing the passerby, and shaking with pure joy.

It was a saturday. So the streets were overly crowded with turned out girls and boys, people on dates, people heading home from the office. Because there really was no rest for the wicked. Especially in DC. And it was all just so far beyond protocol. A security nightmare, which Jordan didn’t seem to care about. And anyway, the more important question was really why. Specifically why had Huck agreed in the first place. 

"This was a bad idea."

Jordan clapped Huck on the shoulder. “You really need to relax. It’s fine.”

But it really wasn’t. “Where are we going?”

“I told you. It’s a surprise.”

He kept saying that like it was normal. Huck had shot the last person that tried to surprise him. Billie rushed ahead to terrorize some pigeons, nearly pulling Jordan to ground. Jordan laughed. And Billie barked. They continue their slow amble down the street.

“Your life is in danger. How can you care so much about food and surprises?”

Huck didn't have to look to know that Jordan was rollinghis eyes. They had stopped at an intersection. Once again Jordan reached into Huck’s pocket and retrieved his phone. After a few moments tapping at the screen Jordan grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him right, down another street he didn't recognize.

"So, new rule,” Jordan declared. “No talking about the case. Only normal things. Ready, set, go.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Score! Twitter is magic!” Jordan announced.

They had taken a right and a left and another left into an alley, where, at the very end, a food truck was parked. There was a line of people and a small stereo playing lebanese pop music.

“So, um, if you want to hang out while I order..?”

Jordan said it like a question but obviously wasn’t looking for an answer because he was already backing away, heading for the line.

“But-”

“It’s cool,” said Jordan. “I eat here all the time. I know what’s good.”

“And how exactly are you planning to pay?”

“Don’t worry about it,”Jordan laughed. “Just go stake us out some pavement.”

It was like they said in meeting. Fake it till you make it. Huck had become a truly spectacular fake. He faked things all the time. Compassion. Interest. Politeness. Even temper. Normalcy. Sanity. Human-ness. So Huck took a deep breath and faked Not Panicked and Not Furious. He found a bench on the sidewalk outside an art gallery. And he sat there and faked Guy With Dog Casually Waiting. But from the looks on the faces of people who passed him he wasn’t doing such a good job. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.

 

* * *

 

More than Kate/Becky, more than feeling in control, more than anything, he missed having a family. He’d tried to find a new one. Even test drove a few.

 

* * *

 

Jordan returned with an inordinate amount of food, falafel and stuffed grape leaves and vegetables and pita and rice and hummus in cardboard containers, some of which he shoved into Huck’s hands.

“So, once you taste this, you’ll get it. Totally worth risking one's life for.”

It was a joke. So Huck faked a smile.

 

* * *

 

There had been the single dad with two daughters in a ranch house with a fenced yard. Two moms with a thirteen year old boy who loved soccer and practiced every day in the street outside their condo. A young Haitian couple with a 10 month old. He was an accountant. She was going to school at night. They were remodeling their little house on the weekend.

 

* * *

 

So, so he was right. The food was really good. And maybe that was just because he didn’t eat well all that often. Billie sat at his feet, all whining and doleful eyed. And usually he would have happily shared his meal with her. But not this time.

“So, I think this is the part where we have a conversation.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like, you ask me a question. And I respond. And you reply accordingly.”

Jordan was turned toward him, feet drawn up on the bench, watching Huck’s face carefully. And he tried, he did, really, too think of something to say. But before he knew it they had lapsed into thick awkward silence.

“Or not,”Jordan sighed. “Whatever. The people watching is good here anyway.”

“So you like to watch people?” The words came tumbling out too fast for him to stop it. And from the look Jordan gave him Huck knew that he’d sounded just a little too excited

“It sounds horrifying when you put it like that. But yeah,” said Jordan. “In person. Online. Especially online. But IRL is cool too.”

A gaggle of teenagers passed them. The girls were all under dressed for the weather. And the boys were eagerly crowding close.

“Like, everyone is trying to control the way they look and the way they’re seen. It’s totally fascinating. But of course, you know, everyone is their own fallible narratore, too. So the performance is always false. And wow, I sound like a complete creeper.”

Huck laughed. Really laughed. Maybe for the first time in months. He threw his head back and laughed until his lungs hurt and Jordan socked him in the arm.

“Fine then. Your turn.

“I was reading about jellyfish today...”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to ask you about yours.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong those families. That were idyllic. Beautiful. Loving. Perfect, even. But something wasn’t quite right. Watching them felt good. But not great. Not like love. Not the way that it used to.

 

* * *

 

“Well,” he said, “It was like one part teen rebellion one part mad crush on the guy who did it. Which was really stupid.  But I don’t know. It’s grown on me. Like, I used to hate it. But now I think it’s kind of...” Jordan’s cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink. "I don't know. But you seemed to like it."

Huck didn’t have any tattoos though he’d always kind of wanted one. He’d also been hoping for a military career; to become a high ranking so and so who got to wear their dress blues to work instead of fatigues. And though tattoos were a kind of right of passage in the military those who had them never made it that far.

Jordan’s eyes went wide. “You were in the military?”

Yeah, the marines.

Jordan had been an army brat but he hoped they could still be friends. Huck wondered why that wasn't in his dossier. And oh, just like that, yes, it was happening. A conversation. What would Huck get if he were going to do it? He wasn’t sure. Did it hurt? Yeah, Jordan admitted that he had cried when they got to his ribs. But the work on his thigh had sent him into a fit of giggles.

And how exactly did he pay for all that food? Well, Jordan knew the guy who owned the truck. Jordan had helped him, air quotes, with a citizenship thing, air quotes. Plus he built the guy a website for his business. And showed him how to optimize traffic with social networks. So basically Jordan had free falafel for life.  

 

* * *

 

In meetings people would talk alot about tolerance and escalation. The time would come when the high just wasn’t high enough anymore. Because they had built up a tolerance. So they would have to escalate their habit.

Huck wondered if that was what was happening to him.

He didn’t want to think about what his escalation might look like.  

 

* * *

 

The food is long gone. They’re discussing the merits of Lenux over Apple when a car backfires on the street in front of them. And Jordan grabs onto Huck like he’s drowning.

"What the fuck!"

Huck thinks that what he’s supposed to say is, “It's ok.” But instead, what comes out is, “Take a deep breath. You’ll get used to it.”

“Can we go now?” he asks. "Please."

Slowly, Huck can feel him relaxing. But the whole walk home, Jordan doesn’t let go of him. They don’t talk, either. But their quiet is comfortable now. The second Huck locks the door of his apartment Jordan is pulling at his clothes again.

There’s no urgency this time. Nothing desperate in the way Jordan pulls him close. Instead he is bossy and indulgent. Would you? Like this. Right there. Fuck, slower. Not yet. But he’s ok with that. Because Huck likes having directions. More than that, he likes the way Jordan holds him down but also manages to find his hand in the sheets and thread their fingers together. After, he kisses Huck between the eyes and tells him that he’s good, so fucking good. They rinse off in the shower and repeat

 

* * *

 

After, Jordan will not stay in bed.

“Thanks for helping me today,” he say. “You know, with the interview.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was everything.”

He paces the length of the apartment, reciting his talking points.

“You’ve got this. You’ll be fine.”

“But I’m afraid-”

“The only thing you should be afraid of is the cameras picking up the bags under your eyes,” says Huck

And when he finally does sleep, Huck can’t. But Billie is curled at the foot of the bed, with a dutiful look on her face. So he doesn’t feel bad for slipping out from under the covers. He locks the bathroom door, turns on the radio, and turns the volume down as low as he can.

 

* * *

 

Olivia texts him their schedule in the middle of the night.

Quinn and Abby will pick them up at 8:00. Jordan needs to be showered and changed. First, hair cut. Then, Jordan's arraignment. It's mostly just for show, an excuse for him to walk out of the courthouse and make a brief statement on the steps because that was classic. Then the interview for prime time. They’re shooting it in the office. And if things go as planned, which she expects them to, the charges will be dropped by the end of the day. And Jordan will be a free and probably much wealthier young man.

 

* * *

 

After that Huck waits. Waits as long as he can. But at 6:23 he just can’t take it anymore. He crawls back into bed and wakes Jordan with an insistent kiss.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

Huck pulls him close, winding his fingers through his messy hair.

“Then what are you doing?”

“Saying goodbye. We won’t have the chance later.”

 

* * *

 

Because he knows it’s going to happen. But knowing is not the same, as, well, knowing.

Quinn and Abby come. They bring the agreed upon suit. They take Jordan away. Huck has work to do in office most of the day. He shows the camera crew where to set up. Jordan's court house steps appearance comes up in his feeds. The network decides that they want a live broadcast. When Jordan arrives it’s chaos. He sticks his head into Huck’s office.

“What do ya’ think?” he say.

The unruly curls have been sheared and tamed. The suite fits perfectly. His wingtip shoes make a clean sharp tap on the floor as he turns slowly. And if Huck is honest he’s a little heart broken. Because he doesn't like change. And Jordan looks devestating, nothing like the scruffy kid that had he'd kissed on that very spot just a few days before. But he can’t say anything because, Abby, Quinn, and Harrison are all watching from the hallway.

“Will you come watch my interview?” Jordan asks hopefully.

Under Olivia’s suggestion, he'll be going back to Boulder to visit his parents for a while. It’s sentimental, which works to his favor. But it also gets him out of DC for a while.

“Yeah,” says Huck. “Sure.” But he knows full well that he won’t.

The tall, skinny, blonde, slightly spunky news caster that they've selected shoulders past Jordan and leans into Huck's office. 

"Oh my god," she cries. "We should shoot it in here with all the, you know, computer suff!"

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huck decides to get a life, accidentally becomes a hipster.

If they have a good day the nights at Pope and Associates are spent celebrating and watching their good work play out in front of Olivia’s wall of monitors. And it had been a good day. So no one was looking when Huck slipped out.

 

* * *

 

The first few days after he spent a lot of time wondering if he should call. But Jordan hadn’t officially given him his new number and calling would mean having to admit that he’d hacked a major cell phone carrier to track him down. After a month he was looking at Jordan’s facebook page two or three or thirty times a day, hitting refresh refresh refresh. Jordan's relationship status was "Complicated." Jordan was "Completely overwhelmed by everyones support." Jordan "... [was] at maximum capacity for friend requests. Sorry guys!" Jordan was "... Realizing how much [he'd] missed the mountains." Jordan was "Looking toward the future, or some such cliche shit." And each time Huck promised himself that really, he was going to stop.

 

* * *

 

Huck decides to expand the scope of his routines. Go big or go... whatever. He’s done with mantras and cliches. That's not to say that he's giving up on the program, or his sobriety. But that he doesn't need it so much any more. He stops going to the meetings and starts going out.

First there is dog walking in the evening. He’s lived in the neighborhood for years. But he had no idea how much there was to do; movie theaters, book shops, record stores, bars and restaurants. He’d so liked the way it felt, Being out, on the street, part of the world, with Jordan. And if Jordan couldn’t be there maybe he could still have the other part.

So then there was dinner on Fridays. Dinner out. And not out of a drive through window. Out at actual places.

“By yourself?” Quinn says, when he explains it to her. “Isn’t that... awkward?”

Huck shakes his head. He’s alone most of the time. Being alone in public is no different.

He goes to movies by himself too. And he sits in the dark with groups of strangers and marvels at just how strange and wonderful that is all on its own. On whim he walks into a bar, where a band is playing and situates himself at the center of crowd. Everyone around him moves, moves together. And all that energy. It’s a new different kind of high.

He starts taking the metro to work. He likes it when it’s crowded.

He takes Billie to the dog park on Sundays. And she plays with other dogs. It’s fun to watch her run and wag enthusiastically over tossed frisbees. Sometimes other dog people talk to him. He think some of them are trying to flirt but he’s not sure how to respond at first.

 

* * *

 

His litmus test for Success and Normal has always been his co-workers.

But their cracks are starting to show. Abby, Quinn, Harrison, even Olivia; he had known that they weren’t perfect. But their cracks have begun to show more and more around the edges.

And yet, when he stops agreeing to work late every single night, he is the one that they start to look leery of, like he’s a dog who might bite them.

 

* * *

 

He’s walking home from work one night and sees a flyer for this thing called a Bar-cade that is hosting a Pac-Man tournament. And he goes. And he wins. It probably has something to do with the fact that he spends an innapropriate amount of time playing it at work.

After, a soft girl with strawberry blond hair gives him a congratulatory kiss and they just keep going until they’re back at her apartment. So that becomes a thing that he does too.

He knows how he seems to other people. He knows that Becky/Kate came as a surprise to everyone because they thought he was some sort of recluse asexual. But mostly, before, he just didn’t trust himself. Didn’t believe that he deserved it. Sometimes it’s men. Sometimes women. Nothing lasts. But slowly he remembers how good the human on human contact could be, how one could become dependant on and hungry for that comfort no matter who it was with.

And before he knows it, months have passed. And he’s stopped thinking about him. Well, not stopped completely. But mostly.

 

* * *

 

So on Friday Huck goes out to dinner. And he goes to this new-ish micro-brewery place with pretentious food because it has a patio where they allow dogs and the weather has been nice. But it won't be much longer.

He’s been nursing his beer for a while and slipping french fries to Billie under the table. He is supposed to be meeting Anthony. Anthony Nersesian. Anthony has texted him to say that he’s running late. Anthony is 32. He works at the graphic design firm on the first floor of the P&A building. For two weeks he’s been conveniently taking his smoke breaks at or around the same time that Huck is heading for the train. He has olive skin and dark eyes which Huck likes. The sort-of stalking is weird but he appreciates it.

It’s busy. All of the tables are packed. So no one really notices him except the waitress who scratches Billie behind the ears and offers him a refill.

 

* * *

 

In the weeks immediately after Huck had been completely convinced that he was seeing Jordan everywhere. He allowed himself to get his hopes up. On a few occasions he approached lanky curly haired strangers on the street and had to awkwardly apologize. After that he gives up. He resists the urge and reminds himself that Jordan left. He comes to a sort of piece with the fact that he won’t see him again. Or at least that's what he's telling himself.

Jordan went back to Colorado, to his parents. If not there he was probably programing for some hot shit corporation in the silicon valley. Or living in an artists collective in Tahoe. Traveling Europe with his newly attained fortune and maybe a new, attractive, sane, worthy person who takes care of him. Whatever it is, Huck likes the idea of Jordan being somewhere, being happy.

 

* * *

 

One of the other tables is particularly loud with laughter and excited talking. They  all appear business casual, celebrating the end of their work week. All of them except one, a gangly man in jeans and a dark sweater with patches on the elbows, who pushes his chair back on two legs. Huck tells himself that the man is not looking at him. But then the man narrows his gray eyes behind his square black glasses and his bow mouth pulls down into a frown.

Huck’s phone lets out a sad little chime, it’s another text from Anthony. He is stuck in a client meeting. He’ll be there as soon as he can.

Earlier that day Huck had press Anthony Nersesian, 32, graphic designer, up against the rail in the stairwell and jerked him off. Anthony said he had a girlfriend. But did Huck want to mess around sometime? Because guys didn’t really count. And fine, maybe it wasn't as romantic and freeing as he'd built it up to be. But it felt good. He thinks he might deserved that, at the very least.

And now the man at the table has stopped playing at being covert. He’s staring out right with a sort of expectant look on his face. Huck texts back. Yeah. That’s ok. See you soon. This isn’t a date. It’s just pretense. He has no right to be indignant. But that doesn’t keep Huck from wondering. Is he being stood up? Is this what rejection felt like? Billie is suddenly up and alert. She lets out a sharp whine and Huck plies her with another frenchfry.

The man with the chestnut hair and the sweater says something to his companions, picks up his beer, and begins making his way toward Hucks table.

Anthony texts back almost immediately. He’ll make it up to him. Promise. Winky Face.

And the young man plunks down in the seat across from Huck. Billie rushes him, jumping up and licking his face. “Dog Face!” he cooes. “Well it’s good to know that you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Huck says.

Jordan blinks at him slowly. “So you’re just ignoring me?”

“No... I, um...”

He’s filled out just a little. His hair is still messy but at least all one color now The glasses are new. And the clothes are clean and not second hand. But there’s no denying or ignoring that it’s him. That he’s not just another trick of light. He's really there.

“...Just didn’t recognize you.”

Jordan pats Billie on the head and takes a long draw from his beer. “Oh really?”


	8. Chapter 8

“This is it,” he said, tilting his chin up at the large converted warehouse. “That one, at the top with the balcony. That’s mine. Isn’t gentrification grand?”

Huck thinks that maybe he should be offended or indignant that Jordan would just assume, just invite him back to his place without even considering that he’d moved on or found someone else. And yet, there he was.

They’d paid their respective bills. Jordan had said goodbye to his friends. Or at least he assumed they were his friends. Huck set his phone to ignore any texts from Anthony Whatever His Name Was. And with little discussion they’d agreed to go to Jordan’s because it was close enough to walk.

Just through the large double doors they are greeted by a man in a security uniform; he frowned at Huck and the dog but called Jordan “Mr. Daniels”. He can’t keep from rolling his eyes. In the elevator he hits the button for the top floor.

“So, it’s been a few months,” Jordan said. “I’d kind of-”

“Three months and a twenty days.” Huck is sure that he didn’t have that much to drink but he still feels fuzzy. Since they left the bar he’d been having a hard time keeping his hands still. “...or something,” he said.

“... I’d kind of hoped that I’d hear from you.”

And before he could lose his nerve Huck caught him around the waist, pulling Jordan close and kissing him maybe a little too fast; he hears more the feels the clash of their teeth. And there’s a sharp surprised intake of breath. Though he’s not really sure which of them it came from.

“Sorry,” Huck breaths.

Jordan doesn’t push away, but pulls him closer, stumbling back against the metal wall.

He fists his hands in Huck's shirt like he's reigning him in.

“I’m sorry. I-”

The elevator doors pulled back and they broke apart.

Jordan’s door has a keyless deadbolt. Once inside he punches a ten digit security code into a touchpad on the wall. Huck can’t help but feel a little bit proud.

And suddenly they are making up for lost time.

 

* * *

 

There were days when it seemed that all he did was tell lies. For himself. For other people. But when he’d lied to Jordan it had left a kind of heavy feeling in his chest. That feeling had settled and stayed and he thought that maybe it might be guilt. Or regret. He’s not sure. That was beyond his realm of knowledge. But it wasn’t like a restaurant. Or a tie. Or the right kind of wine to have with whatever. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could Google. And there was no one he could have asked for clarification

 

* * *

 

They don’t make it very far. Huck pushes him up against the nearest solid surface, hard.

“Fuck.”

Hard enough that it knocks the breath out of him.

“...Sorry.”

Jordan’s blue sweater is impossibly soft in his hands and one of the seams pops and tears as he yanked it up and off.

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying that, god.”

His knees sting when they hit the hardwood. But Jordan drops his hands to Huck’s hair which is exactly what he wants. That and the little gasp that escapes him when Huck forces his jeans down off his hips.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

And Huck has his fingers hooked in the waist of Jordan’s boxers. But before he can get them anywhere Jordan covers his hand with is own, holding him still.

“I... is that weird?”

And usually he’s the expert on weird. The ultimate authority, the wikipedia.

“I thought about you almost every time I... A lot. I thought about you a lot.”

Jordan curls his fingers under Huck’s chin, tipping his head up and back so he can look him in the eye. Huck feels the uptick of his own heart beat and wonders, hopes, that maybe Jordan feels it to.

"If we're doing this, I guess, I just want it to be clear. It's because I, I missed you."

Jelly fish drifted in underwater currents.

They stung when threatened.

They could evolve without the threat of a predator.

"God," Jordan sighed. "I don't know what I'm talking about. Or why I'm talking about it now..."

Three months and twenty days earlier Jordan had arched in his bed and let Huck graze the tendons in his neck with his teeth.

Domestic dogs could have the same bite force as a crocodile. But they bared their throats as a show of trust. And now he was looking down at him expecting and wanting, eyes blown wide.

“I...”

At Pope and Associates they talked a lot about Risk vs Return. The last person that had looked at him that way was Kate. And he’s afraid for the first time in a long time. But he wants, too. Wants this. Wants being on his knees and sweaters and dog walking and apartments with door men. He wants to be missed, even if it’s not rational. Even if it disassembled him, he wants it. Risk. Return. At least now he knows that he can come back. And he wants Jordan to know all of this in the way that he does. But Huck’s been telling lies and speaking in code for so long he’s not sure he has the words. Just jellyfish and dogs and wikipedia. Risk and Return.

“I hacked your Facebook...” said Huck

Jordan let out a barking laugh.

“...a couple times.”

And Jordan bent down and kissed him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, maybe a little too hard.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find the keys in the glove box.
> 
> Jordan makes a bunch of jokes about “U-Haul-ing” that Huck doesn’t really get.

His co-workers had stopped asking him to go places with them years ago. He thinks the word they'd used was killjoy. 

* * *

 

Jordan had a new tattoo, a Turing Machine right down the center of his back and Huck can’t keep his hands or mouth off of it. They do make it to bed. Eventually. When they’re too spent to manage much else. Huck falls asleep tracing it with his fingers. But he wakes to the opposite side of the bed cold and empty.

Huck’s clothes are piled but not folded at the foot of the bed. The alarm clock sits on the floor, it’s face blaring neon red, 3:43AM. He pulls on his t-shirt and jeans but can’t be bothered to button them and wanders out into the apartment.

The place was, if possible, more sparsely furnished than his own, ie. alarm clock on the floor and no bed frame just a mattress. No rug or towels in the bathroom. No table in the kitchen. Just a microwave with the wrong time. Like his own home there is no vision to it, just purpose.

There's little more than boxes and an absurdly large television in the living room. And he finds Jordan there, sitting on the floor where a sofa should be, surrounded by stacks of paper. Billie sat beside him, looking exhausted by the whole ordeal.

“Shit.” He only barely looked up from the folder in his lap. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Huck shook his head and sat down across from him on the cold hardwood. “What’s all this?”

Jordan made a few notations, closed the folder, picked up another, and started all over. “Work.”

Huck arched an eyebrow at him. “Work?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” Jordan snorted. “Like a job.”

“Well, then I guess I should go, leave you to it.”

He says it not really knowing why. Because leaving is the last thing he wants to do. But before he could get anywhere Jordan grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and reeled him in.

“Stay,” he said. “For the day. Hell, the weekend.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just say yes.”

 

* * *

 

Because Huck was a man who liked a plan. Or at least a rough outline. Surprises were a definite no. If he couldn't look it up on the internet ahead of time it made him anxious or at least it used to. 

 

* * *

 

So Huck made coffee, got out his own laptop, asked for the wireless password. Jordan went back to the mysterious mounted piles of paper but would sometimes reach out and kind of almost absently just... touch him. Trace the shell of his ear. Snake his fingers up the sleeve of his t-shirt. Kiss his neck. And just go back to whatever he was doing. 

"I feel like I should offer you breakfast or something," he said.

“Is that what people do?” Huck asked, “For a whole weekend?”

“That, and other things,” Jordan said. And his eyes went dark and mischievous.

“What about this?” Huck turned his laptop toward him and Jordan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose for a better look.

“Well,” he sighed. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

Huck cast his eyes out at the barren apartment. 

"I offer you a weekend of anonymous sex and this is what you want to do?"

"I don't want to be anonymous. And you need a sofa."

 

* * *

 

Part of what he finds so intriguing about Jordan is that he is nothing like himself. Or mostly not. That is not to say that he is normal. No, it’s more to do with the fact that he has passionate opinions about things instead of motives. His arrest record involves possession with intent to distribute and activist actions, not political ones. He’s sketchy. But not dark. Or so Huck thought. Because when Jordan says he “has a guy” that can get them a van in forty-five minutes he doesn’t believe him. But they go out to walk the dog. And by the time they get back there is an extended cab van parked by the curb.

They find the keys in the glove box.

Jordan makes a bunch of jokes about “U-Haul-ing” that Huck doesn’t really get.

Huck has to drive because as Jordan explains it, he’s a “dirty hippy” and he never learned to because he finds cars “morally objectionable”.

He takes the I-66 to the 267-W toward Stirling.

“So what’s this job?” Huck asks.

Jordan has his feet kicked up on the dash. “Could you maybe try it again with less skepticism?”, he says.

“No, I mean, I really want to know.’’

“Well, I don’t do too well with an abundance of time on my hands.”

 

* * *

 

He’d been a bit of a celebrity for a little while. Jordan was handsome and mysterious. The former child prodigy thing made for extra interest. But after a few awkward interviews, which Huck watched and read over and over, Jordan refused to talk to any more press. So they did what they did best. Made things up. When the initial buzz of the case died down it was replaced by rumors of where Jordan would go next. According to blogs there were multiple offers out for him; GE, IBM, hp, AVG, some other acronyms. There were even a few bids from big name universities. Which was the ultimate irony. Because he’d been dropped or dropped out from every school he’d ever attended.

 

* * *

 

“Staying with my parents was a nightmare. I was only there like four days. And it was just... I needed to not be there. So I came back. Got the apartment. And I know, it seems completely ridiculous, right?” Jordan laughed. “Me. Teaching.”

He wasn’t interested in any of the universities. Something about Accademia and Privilege and Commodification of Knowledge. So Jordan had flown back to DC and wandered into the Comp. Science department of the first community college he found on the net

“Wouldn’t you need an actual degree of your own for that?” Huck asked.

“No, because it’s mostly a trade school. Well, more like college prep. They have, like, a GED program, nursing, auto mechanics, associates degrees,  that sort of thing.”

And he’d just asked if they were hiring. Just asked. Just like that.

The department had received a government grant to expand it’s computer science courses. “Something about job stimulus. I don’t really know. But it turns out that people with technology backgrounds don’t have any interest in teaching high school dropouts how to write CSS. So there was a position open.”

And they’d given him the job, nearly on the spot.

“The pay is, like, completely horrible. And I think at least one of the other professors hates me. But it’s amazing. My students are amazing. And excited and super smart and a lot of them could go onto college and masters programs and...”

And what’s really amazing is the flit of Jordan’s eyes as they light up, the excited way his hands move through the air. He looks happy, exactly the type of happy that Huck had imagined.

“Yeah, so, anyway. I have these database case studies to get through. I hope that’s ok. What are you smiling about? Eyes on the road. God.”   

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Huck thinks that maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s the rest of the world that is fucked up and strange.

Like estate sales? People seemed to think that they were completely normal. But there was something about it that unnerved him; buying furniture from dead people.

Huck pulled the truck up to the red brick colonial but couldn't bring himself to knock on the door. It was a dead person’s door. And Jordan cocked an eyebrow at him but didn’t ask. It didn’t matter anyway because before they could do anything a woman with an immaculate bob and Uggs pulled open the door.

“You must be the gentleman I spoke to about the sofas.”

She reminded him of Millie. Not that Huck has ever met her. But he’d watched her go through the motions, play her role to the letter. And that’s what the woman does, leads them into the house, gracious and moving with practiced ease down the front hall and into the living room

It’s a sofa, love seat, ottoman, actually. Very modern, all in dark metal and black leather.

“Very butch,” Jordan whispers.

“It’s all practically new,” says the woman. “Mother had the whole room redone just a few months before...” She nearly drops out of character.

Jordan elbows him in the ribs. “Whaddya think?”

Huck doesn’t really have objective opinions about furniture. But he says, “Yeah, it looks great.”

And Jordan says, “We’ll take it.”

“We, you, oh...” the woman says. “Well that’s nice.”

Jordan looks a little too pleased with himself. “I saw in the ad, you’re selling a bed frame as well?”

 

* * *

 

It takes some clever aranging to get it all in the van. Jordan jams his fingers on the doorframe when they’re taking out the larger of the sofas. And his instinct is to be defensive. No. Protective. But it’s a sofa. So he feels kind of stupid, too.

He asks if he’s ok about a hundred times on the way back.

“Yes, really. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He extends his hand across the cab. “You wanna kiss it and make it better?”

It’s 1pm on a saturday. And he doesn’t know for sure if this is what two people are supposed to do together on weekends. But Jordan gasps when Huck nips at his fingertips and that’s enough. They stop at Huck’s apartment to pick up another set of cloths and dog food.

 

* * *

 

When the sun starts to set Jordan drags him out onto the balcony because it’s just amazing and he just has to see it.

That night Huck takes him out, to the bar with the arcade games. Huck beats him at mortal combat. Presses up behind him to "show him" how to play space invaders. Though he doesn't really have to. Jordan tops his high score on Pac-Man and drinks too much tequila. And there's a beauty to kissing him public, in a crowd, with music blasting overhead. Jordan throws his arms around his neck and pulls him into a dark corner where they won't be noticed

 

* * *

 

Sunday morning they lay in the newly assembled bed with their hangovers and Jordan splays his fingers over the sealed bullet hole in Huck’s thigh. “Will you tell me about them?” he said. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I wasn’t brave enough to ask before.”

Huck shrugged, like it was nothing, like he didn't still have a fragment of the AK47 round still lodged under his skin.. But it took him a long time to actually form the words.

“Kosovo.”

And Huck could see from the furrow between Jordan’s eyebrows that it only left him with more questions. But he didn’t push. They had time now. All the time in the world. Or at least the remainder of the weekend. Jordan walked his fingers to the stab wound just below his ribs.

“This one?”

“Iraq.” Jordan pressed his lips over the scar. And if the nerves hadn’t been damaged he was sure it would have felt amazing.

“This one?”

Huck gasped at the rake of teeth on his hip.

“You know, you’re the first person that’s ever asked.”

“Really?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And everything after that was logical conclusions. Things coming to fruition in natural order. Almost like the way it happened in books and movies, ideals he didn't believe in. But it happened. And it was all so fast. He thought maybe fast was for the best. It didn't give him the chance to be afraid.

“You’re gonna call this time, right?”

He ends up staying until the last possible minute, until he absolutely has to go back to work on Monday. And he’s tired cause they stayed up talking about Jordan’s new job, and the riots in Egypt, and Real Housewives of Atlanta (Jordan had somehow coerced Huck into admitting that he watched it in the first place) and he still has to drop Billie off at the apartment before going to the office. And he knows all of this. But he doesn’t want to.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Huck can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket. The gladiators were starting without him. Olivia has been texting all morning about someone called Caldwell. But Jordan is leaning in the doorway with his boxers and sweatshirt and cup of coffee and biting his lip like he’s holding back a laugh. And in a childish, primal sort of way, Huck does not want to leave.

“I’m going to call.”

Jordan shrugged. Gave a coy smile over the edge of his coffee cup. “Alright then,” he says.

And it should be obvious. Because Huck has government training in psychological manipulation. But it takes a long quiet moment for it to sink in. Jordan is messing with him. He was being messed with.

“You’re birthday is next saturday,” Huck says.

“I should probably be creeped that you just have this information on hand.”

“I’m going to call. And I’m going to ask you what you want for your birthday.”

 

* * *

 

And he did.

Jordan said he wanted a surprise.

He remembered Jordan saying, all those months ago, that he would like to maybe one day have a dog. But even Huck knew that that would be to forward. He was pretty sure.

So Huck bought him a plant instead. Because that was what people had done for him when he got a new place. That was a thing that people did, right? Plants for people with new homes?

Well, technically two plants, a pair of ‘marimo’ which he’d never heard of. They were just the most interesting thing in the little asian market where he bought most of his plants, kind of like tennis ball sized masses of moss that floated in a tank.

Huck was nervous that he would think they were stupid.

But instead Jordan spent an hour googling facts about them on his ipad and speculating over what their names should be.

So they missed the dinner reservation that Huck had made (all by himself, without input from anyone, thanks very much).

Ordered in pad thai, instead.

Torrented a movie. Ended up fucking on the sofa.

Ended up on the floor.

Which was all good. But not as good as after when they are nose to nose and Jordan is laughing for no reason at all.

“Well,” he sighed. “I am officially closer to 30 than I am to 20. That’s significant, right?”

Huck couldn’t remember what he’d been doing when he was 28.

“Wait.” he sat up, studying Huck’s face intently. “How old are you?”

Huck had tried to remember what his birthday was. Not the one on his drivers license. The actual one. The date of the actual day that he’d been born.

“Thirty-seven.”

It was close enough. Jordan’s jaw dropped in, what he hoped, was mock surprise. “No!”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fucking an older man,” he said dramatically.  

Huck caught him by the arm, pulling and then pressing him down. Jordan gasped and laughed and Huck pinned his wrists above his head.

“Not that much older.”

 

* * *

 

And everything after that was logical conclusions. Things coming to fruition in natural order. The way it happened in books and movies, ideals he didn’t believe in. But it happened. And it was all so fast. And he thought maybe fast was for the best. It didn’t give him the chance to be afraid.

That weekend became a week became weeks became seven months and ten days, almost without him noticing. Everything was changing. But Jordan becomes his constant. Jordan has a toothbrush and a t-shirt for sleeping that he keeps at Huck’s place.

 

* * *

 

When they were together it was mostly beautifully banal. Mostly. They ate food together in public. They watched movies in theaters with large groups of strangers. They went to bars. Walked the dog. Jordan would link arms with him. Or sometimes hold his hand. Huck assembled an Ikea desk so Jordan didn’t have to grade papers on the floor.

They texted.

A lot.

Sometimes with little animated symbols.

On a few memorable occasions there were pictures.

“Why don’t you ever send any back?” Jordan whines.

“Because...” Because he doesn’t think he can see himself as that kind of object. He’s been a soldier and a machine and a knife blade and a trigger and barrel and bullet. But not that. No. “I’m not... I don’t look like you. I’m not cute or...”

“That is patently untrue,” Jordan said.

He grabbed his wrist and his cell phone and dragged Huck to bed.

 

* * *

 

He buys a new jacket that actually fits and they go to a ‘department function', whatever that means, with Jordan's colleagues.

“How do  you want me to introduce you?” Jordan asks, last minute, in the elevator up. He won’t admit that he’s nervous. But he redid his tie three times in the car over and wouldn’t stop raking his hands through his hair. And Huck just wants to do whatever will make this go well for him. But it feels like a trick question.

“My name, I guess?”

“No, I mean what should I say that you are? Are you my boyfriend. I hate that word. My... something. My person. I don’t know. But, I mean, is that ok?”

“Well am I not your person?”

Jordan laughed softly and smoothed his hands over his lapels. “Yeah, you’re definitely my person.”

 

* * *

 

They have their first fight over why Huck won’t introduce him to anyone he knows. It ends with Huck shouting through Jordan's front door.

“You don’t want to know the people I know!”

But eventually he goes out on that limb and invites Quinn over for brunch, something he’s heard a lot about but never personally experienced. She and Jordan are thick as thieves the second they are reintroduced and he immediately regrets it.

While Jordan cooks eggs she curls up next to Huck on the sofa, a bit too much like a cat.

“He’s hot,” she purrs. “How long has this been going on?”

“If you tell anyone, I swear-”

 

* * *

 

“Let me get you a new one. Please?”

“It’s fine.”

If Huck had his way they would just spend their nights at Jordan’s apartment. Because it was nice. And new. Slowly but surely becoming comfortable and livable. It was also closer to the restaurants and bookstores and coffee shops they’d started to frequent. That in and of itself seemed like a milestone. Frequenting places. Together. But still Jordan insisted that they take turns. One night at his. One night at Huck’s, even if it was out of the way and messy and always freezing. But Jordan never complained or commented.

“It’s where you work. And you work a lot. Come on, I can afford to-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

No, he just showed up a couple nights a weeks with take out and a DVD or some album that no, really, he had to listen to.

“I can fix it,” said Huck, rifling his drawers for a pair of pliers.

Jordan hugged his shoulders and tried to fix a contrite look on his face. But the corners of his mouth kept turning up and little bursts of laughter escaped him.

It was a Sunday and he’d been spinning around in Huck’s computer chair. Because it squeaked. And he wanted Huck to get up so they could go some place for breakfast or have sex again.  It didn’t matter. He wasn’t picky.

Huck had cursed and moaned that he wanted to go back to sleep. It was a game they’d played before. One that he was pretty sure he would never get tired of because if he waited it out he would get to hear Jordan’s giggling devolve into uncontrollable laughter.

Huck didn’t really see what happened. He’d had his head burrowed under the covers. But there was the squeak squeak squeak of the chair turning turning turning and Jordan said, “If you get out of bed I will blow you in the shower and-”

And then there’d been a crash

Now the chair was off its wheeled base. And Jordan had a bump on the head as well as a bruise purpling it’s way up his arm.

Huck started to pull open another drawer but Jordan blocked it with his hip.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t fix the chair. Move in with me.”

“Because of a broken chair?”

“Yes.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan had taken his hand. And slowly, very slowly, he’d run his thumb along the inside of his wrist. “I love you. I don't know how many more chances like you I'm gonna get. And I'm not prepared to just let it go- let you go -because of something that happened in the past.“

He thinks that maybe they’ve been going about this all wrong.

He’d just let things happen. And he should have known better. Nothing in his life, in particular, just happened. Things were planned. And then re planned. And then there were contingency plans if that didn’t work out.

 

* * *

 

Jordan gets really quiet when Huck doesn’t immediately answer. He loses track of how many times he says that he is sorry. Each time Jordan says that it’s ok. Though he knows that it’s not.

So they walk the dog.

“If we do this,” he told Jordan, “then you need to know something about me.”

Jordan rolls his eyes, and sighs. “Is this the part where you try to talk me out of wanting to be with you?”   

“No. I’m serious.”

“Can I guess what it is?” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He lifts his chin and squints up at the sky. “You are a government assassin?” he says. “Or a Mormon?”

Huck swallows hard.

“No? Then you’re... straight?” Jordan sing-songs. “Or... you’ve been living under an alias. You changed your name ‘cause you’re on the run from the yakuza because of outstanding gambling debts and-”

“Yes!”

It comes out snapped and too loud. And Jordan stops dead. It’s still early and the street is empty and quiet. But still, it feels like things are closing, no, caving in.

“Yes..?

“Yes.”

“To which one?”

It was hard to look him in the eye.

“Huck, yes to which one?”

“Well, not the yakuza. But... I don’t know how to say this.”

 

* * *

 

When he was with Becky, Kate, Becky, whatever, he never fumbled with what to say because most of what he said was a well rehearsed lie. Little did he know. There was a sort of violence to it when they were together. And that was easy, too. That was not to say that he did not love her, did not love the time he had with her.

He had. Really. So much so that for exactly eleven hours he had wondered what it would be like to share a life with her. Not just a life, but a space. And he’d excruciatingly cataloged himself, his ticks and anomalies and annoying behaviors and love of reality television. And it seemed so impossible that someone could do it, that they could be capable of dealing with him when most of the time Huck wasn’t sure he could deal with himself. And he didn’t want that to be the reason. But still, he’d turned her in.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked fifteen days later.

Because he would never know if he never tried.

Jordan had to shove his whole weight against the car door to get it closed. “Yes. Oh my god yes.” He pulled Huck to him. A little ways down the alley Huck’s landlord was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem to approve. But Jordan didn’t seem to care. He gave Huck a quick biting kiss.“This way I can steal your shirts whenever I want and we’ll never have to sleep on a sofa bed ever again, unless we really feel like it. That alone may make this the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“But you’re sure that you’re ok with... everything?”

“Well sure, you were James Bond. But I was an internationally wanted fugitive. I don’t think I’m in any place to judge.”

“But what if I mess this up?”

“Then we’ll have angry make up sex. Now pay the man so we can go home.” He shoved Huck’s keys against his chest. “ Don’t you just love the way that sounds?”

Huck gave the man a months rent plus an extra grand.

“If he finds out,” Huck said flatly, “I will know that it was you.”

He was keeping the apartment for work. That was all. Or that was what he was telling himself.

He and the landlord had never shared more than maybe 20 words in all the time he’d lived there. But now he clapped Huck on the shoulder.

“Hey, I get it man. Sometimes you just need something on the side. And for the money you’re giving me...”

Huck squashed down the urge to slit the man’s throat with his door key. Instead he slipped them into his pocket. Went back to the car. And they went home

 

* * *

 

The day after the day he moved in they stayed in bed until late in the afternoon.

“You know, maybe we could unpack boxes?”

Jordan sprawled across his chest. “Or we could stay here.”

Huck groaned and Jordan laughed.

“You know, I’ve never lived with a boyfriend before,” he said. “Or girlfriend for that matter. Just groups of gutter punks in too small apartments where we had no privacy. I’m excited. This is exciting.”

And Huck knows that this is supposed to be the part where he says that he has. He's supposed to impart some sort of wisdom. But he can't. It's new and terrifying and exciting for both of them.

 

* * *

 

They buy another desk and chair and turn what is supposed to be a “spare bedroom” into their “home office”. There are a lot of monitors and cables and Huck swears that there’s an audible hum from all the machinery. But Jordan says that he kind of likes it.

He likes that even when they have to bring work home, which is often, they are still only a rolling chairs push away from one another.

This doesn’t stop Jordan from g-chatting him.

Or sending him dog videos.

Or linking him to porn gifs.

Or arguing with him about how gif is pronounced.

 

* * *

 

Huck figures it’s going well because Jordan waits up for him. He comes home to the stereo blasting some song he’s never heard before and Jordan dancing by himself in the kitchen.

There is food cooking on the stove. And he’s wearing pajamas and Billie is laying on the rug in front of the sink, tail wagging.

Huck sets down his bag and jacket on the counter. And Jordan turns and catches his eye. And he doesn’t look embarrassed.  Just laughs and shimmies across the tile, curls bouncing with the shake of his head.

“Hi honey.” Jordan kisses him on the nose. “You’re home. How was your day?”

“It was alright.”

“I saw your boss on the news. You’re working the Sara Stanner thing?”

“Yeah.”

“So did she do it?”

“That’s confidential.”

“I know. I just like hearing you say that.”

 

* * *

 

It takes forever to unpack.

And it proves harder than he expected. Because he’s so used to hiding things out of habit. Like muscle memory he stashes the radio beneath the bathroom sink. But later that day he finds Jordan wiring it into the stereo in the living room.

“Don’t be mad,” he says and hand’s Huck a pair of headphones. “I installed an audio out. So you can just plug in. And bonus, you don’t have to hide in the bathroom. ‘Cause you live here now. So you shouldn’t have to hide.”    

 

* * *

 

They have sex a lot. A. Lot.

Or at least Huck thinks it's a lot. 

He starts to wonder if he really is that much older.

Jordan brings a sort of joy and humor to it that he’s never experienced before. That is not to imply that it is missionary or domestic.

There is nothing domestic about it when Jordan is shoving him into bathroom stalls all over DC and and dropping to his knees.

Or when he’s making Huck beg and tying his wrists to the slats in the headboard.

Jordan also laughs more than anyone Huck knows. He’s vocal and demanding. Just the right amount of obstinate. And loud. And he’s always putting his fingers in Huck’s mouth.

Sometimes, when he comes, it sounds like laughter He smiles and sighs and laughs. 

Sometimes, without sense or explanation he tastes exactly like almonds. 

Sometimes he is quiet, holds onto Huck tight, clings, and hides his face against the side of his neck.

Sometimes, after, his eyes go glassy and wide.

Sometimes Jordan says his name, soft and desperate.

Huck sleeping better than he has in, well, ever.

 

* * *

 

They are in the wine aisle at a liquor store. The store clerk is watching disapprovingly as Huck trails his fingers along the glass bottles. They’re running late for dinner at Quinn’s. And Jordan’s cell starts to ring.

“Hello?”

There was a faint female voice from the phone. And Huck starts to pull away. To let him answer the call in private. But then the color drains from Jordan’s face. And grabs Huck by the elbow, pulling him back.

“Mom, slow down...”

He had heard Jordan talk to his parents maybe twice.

Jordan slowly brought his hand up to cover his mouth. The faint voice continued to talk. “And you didn’t- and you didn’t think to tell me? How could you not-”

There was a click and the faint voice was gone and still, for a moment, Jordan stood there, agape, with the phone still pressed to his ear.

“My, um.... My dad died.”

Huck took the phone from his hands.

“A week ago.”

And he pulled Jordan close.

“He’s already in the ground. And no one told me. No one bothered to...”  
And he held him while he cried, right there, in the liquor store with the wine bottles diffusing the light and the disapproving clerk watching.

 

* * *

 

Theodore Daniels died of complications from a heart attack at the age of 68. He was a vietnam veteran. He spent most of his career working  as an engineer for the US Army. He leaves behind his wife and son.

 

* * *

 

Jordan is quiet in the car but keeps hold of Hucks hand until they’re pushing back through the front door of the apartment.

Huck sets the alarm. And Jordan says “I... I’m gonna take a bath.”

His voice is quiet. Almost unrecognizable. A little delirious.

“Do you want me to-”

“No. I just need some time.”

And before he can even turn around Jordan is disappearing down the hall and the bathroom door is clicking shut.

 

* * *

 

Huck had told him everything. That morning, after the fight, after walking the dog, they came back to the apartment that was not yet their home. And they sat in bed, across from one another, and Huck had told him everything. Even the things that were dangerous. The things that could have gotten him killed. The things that were embarrassing and the things he only half remembered. Just admitting that there were things he couldn’t remember-- that was something he'd never told anyone, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

 

* * *

 

He calls Quinn to tell her that they aren’t coming. He tells her why. She tells him give Jordan a hug for her.

And he’s got no idea what to do. So he sits on the floor in the hall opposite the bathroom door. Billie sits beside him. Huck thinks maybe he can hear him crying. And it leaves an ache in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Jordan had just sat there, quiet, for a long moment after. It had been long enough for Huck to convince himself that it was over. Because surely it would be over. Surely no one wanted to move in with a psychopath. Sleep in the same bed with a killer. 

But-- “Do you know how my mother greeted me when I went back home?” Jordan said. “She said ‘Do you know what you’ve done? Our friends from church won’t talk to us anymore.’ They don’t see me for years and that’s all she has to say. When I was young, no matter what I did to make them proud, they were always kind of ashamed of who I was. And it’s the same now.  I am their criminal faggot son who frightens their church friends. They can’t take me the way that I am. I left ‘cause that hurt was too fucking much to bear.”

“Jordan-”

“So I know-”

“But you don’t. This is bigger than that.”

“What I’m trying to say is that for some reason you put up with me, with who I am. And...”

“And?”

“And,” Jordan had taken his hand. And slowly, very slowly, he’d run his thumb along the inside of his wrist. “I love you. I dont know how many more chances like you I'm gonna get. And I'm not prepared to just let it go- let you go -because of something that happened in the past.“  

 

* * *

 

And it’s funny, in a morbid sort of way, because that’s how Huck feels every time Jordan so much as looks at him; surprise that this person, this other human being, has chosen to be with him, mixed with a dread that Huck might hurt him. Because he knows that he can.

Huck waits. Waits with a purpose. For how long, he’s not sure. But it doesn’t matter. Because if he’s honest he thinks he might be willing to wait, to stand guard, for a long long times.  

He doesn’t have to, though.

Jordan emerges with wet hair and one of Huck’s henleys, pulled from the hamper, and hanging big in the shoulders and long in the arms, almost past his fingertips. He looks so fucking young. Especially when he says, “Can we go to bed?”

When they are under the covers and Jordan’s head is on his chest and he’s drifting off to sleep Huck wonders if Jordan knows any of this, and not just in an abstract sort of way. He wonders if Jordan really knows what he is capable of doing. Huck holds him tight. He is hoping against hope that he is capable of more.  

 

* * *

 

In the morning he books the flight to Denver while Jordan packs a bag.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” he asks. “I know I’m not always the greatest emotional support. But-”

“You’re wonderful. But I think I need to do this on my own. Plus,” Jordan smiles, really smiles, for the first time since he got the news about his dad. “This whole thing will be painful enough. There’s no need to subject you to my mother.”

 

* * *

 

It’s only a few days.

He tells himself that over and over.

And Jordan texts him five or fifteen times a day and calls every night.

But the empty space in their bed still seems to mock him.

He wonders if it is still “their” bed when they are not both in it.

He falls asleep on the sofa with the TV on.

 

* * *

 

It’s exactly four days, and eighteen hours.

Jordan calls to say that he is coming home. He sounds brighter than the last time they spoke. Happy. Relieved.

He says that his mother invited them both out to Colorado for Christmas.

His flight will get in late. He’ll take a cab. He’ll see him soon

He wants to get home before Jordan. Pick up the apartment. Order some food.

He just wants to see him.

He’s... excited. He is excited to see him.

He walks into the storage facility hoping that this won’t take long. Huck even manages a smile to the guy at the front desk.

As he pushes open the steel door Huck makes a mental note to change the sheets.

Then there is a bright spark of pain. And everything goes dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was a long one, folks. And can you believe it, it's almost over!?  
> Here's some kitchen dancing music (I couldn't pick one).  
> Thanks for sticking with it. 
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sexPTYJ4fbo  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9e9NSMY8QiQ  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCgXBIBF8mc  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QhFsKCF56xU  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmUKY0JEArA


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huck sleeps for a long time. And when he wakes up he’s not sure if it’s morning or evening. But the light coming through the blinds is orange and pink and Jordan is kissing him, touching him. It’s not libidinous, the way he noses up the line of his ribs or presses his lips just over his heart. It’s more like he’s making sure Huck is really there. Huck is glad for the reminder.

He never said it back. That is the last cogent thought he has when he opens his eyes to all that dark. He never said it back

He never told Jordan that he loved him.

Because he wasn’t sure if he did.

He didn’t have a point of reference.

Jordan would be arriving back to their empty apartment soon.

Jordan knew that sort of thing was difficult for him. He knew how Huck felt. He didn’t have to say it. He hoped.

He tested the lid on the box, felt for the seams, pushed with everything he had. And there was no give. And it occurred to him for the first time that he might never get the chance to do it. To say it. To say the words out loud.

He claws and beats at the lid until his knuckles are numb and he can smell his own blood.

 

* * *

 

Everything after that is like walking through fog.

He thinks that he can hear people calling out to him.

But he’s not sure if any of them are real, if any thing is real.

And then there is Olivia’s voice, clear and strong.

And then she’s taking his hand and pulling him out.

She tells him that it was real.

There is the sound of the elevator. 

The sound of Jordan's voice.

She tells him that it's taken care of.

 

* * *

 

When he opens his eyes again the office is bright and empty.

Olivia’s wall of monitors is flashing but silent for the moment.

Getting up, the simple movement of his body, takes a great effort. He hurts everywhere. But there’s a sort of relief, too. A looseness in his shoulders. Someone took off his boots. And they are lined on the floor beside the sofa where they’d left him. But he doesn’t bother to put them on. Just pads barefoot out into the hall.

He finds Jordan in the conference room, stretched between two chairs, head propped in his hand. Huck crouched down beside him and smoothed Jordan’s hair away from his eyes.

And in a way, a terrible way, it was like just falling back into step.

Huck usually woke him like this, getting up to leave for work before him, just touching. Watching his face, the shift from morning unhappiness to a coy kind of satisfaction as he pressed into Huck’s hands.

 

* * *

 

“Be safe,” he’d say.

“I’ll try,” Huck would tell him. Because if he promised he’d be lying.

 

* * *

 

Now Jordan jolted awake, hiding his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a few breaths. “I didn’t know where I was.”

Huck peeled his fingers away.

“Hey.”

“Hey?” Jordan blinked at him slowly. “Hey?" And with an anger that Huck had never seen in him before, he snatched him up by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close.  "Fuck you. I thought you were dead.”  And he wrapped his arms around Huck’s neck, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

“I can’t.”

“I don’t care. Say it anyway.”

 

* * *

 

They go home.  

Jordan props him up in the shower untill the dirt and the blood has been washed away.

Huck still isn't much for talking.

They lay in bed. And Huck hates that all of their sadness seems to end up here. But then Jordan is curling around him, covering him gently like hothouse ivy. He's too tired to sleep anymore. And Jordan is kissing him, touching him. It’s not  libidinous, the way he noses up the line of his ribs or presses his lips just over his heart. It’s more like he’s making sure Huck is really there. Huck is glad for the reminder.

“I understand if you’re angry,” Huck says carefully.

“Why would I be angry?”

“Because I have a wife. Or I did. And a kid.”

“A son,” Jordan chides. “And it’s not like you lied. You just didn’t know.”

“You say that like it’s normal.”

“Fuck normal. I’m happy for you." And Jordan goes quiet for a long moment, takes a deep breath. "You know, we could find them.”

“Find them?” Huck swallowed hard.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want. It’s not my decision. But it wouldn't be difficult. They’re probably still in DC. We could just-”

“You’re taking this amazingly well.’

“Well, I suppose I could be mincing and wringing my hands about what this will mean for us.” Jordan dug his chin against Huck’s ribs and fixed him with a hard stare. “What could happen if you want her back. Or visa versa. But last night I was sure I’d never see you again. So instead I’ll just enjoy the fact that you’re alive and that you have answers...”

Huck hauled him up by his shoulders to look him in the eye.

“...And you’re here. And warm. And I-”  

“I love you.” The words don’t sound quite right. It feels like they get caught on his teeth. But Huck still means them.

 

* * *

 

Olivia texts to tell him that he is taking some (more) time off. And that's an order. No arguing. He’s not happy about it.

Jordan finds someone to sub his classes.

And Huck is in worse shape than he thought. Because simple things seem really difficult. Like getting out of bed. Putting on clothes. Going out to listen to the radio. Coming back again.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jordan says. But does an ok job rebandaging Huck’s hands, which are swollen and still bleeding a bit. He laughs nervously. ”I’m less grossed out than I thought I’d be.”

And Huck wants to tell him that this is a good thing, that it’s great that he doesn’t know how to patch a wound. But he’s not sure how.

It’s strange, having someone take care of him. And he gets the feeling that it’s new for Jordan to. He is earnest but clumsy with his offers of blankets and painkillers and chicken noodle soup. That’s what you give people when they don’t feel well, right? He thinks he might even have some pot stashed away someone where if Huck wants it. Whatever will make him feel better. He just wants him to be better.

Jordan takes the dog out to get some groceries and he is alone with their home. Their home. Huck promised he would stay in bed. But the second the door clicked shut he was up and wandering out into the apartment. He sits down on the floor in the entry, because he's too tired to stand, and he just looked.

He let his eyes drift over the walls that they’d been talking about painting.

The TV.

His Radio.

The house plants

The dirty dishes on the counter.

Jordan’s stack of work on the coffee table.

The dog bed with the chewed tennis ball beside the sofa.

His coat hanging from the back of a kitchen chair. It was dirty and shiny with spots of his blood.

In the box, he had clung to these things. This place. He knew that alone they were just things. They didn’t have actual meaning. But still, they were his. This was his place. And maybe it wasn’t perfect. Or orthodox. But he shared it with this person. His person. And even after all the times he’d scanned Olivia’s apartment, he’d never realized that that was what had been missing. He’d always thought of her as having everything. But no. Even surrounded and wanted by people as she was, she didn’t really have someone. There is no one taking care of her. No one but him, maybe. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. But Jordan nearly trips on him as he comes through the door. And he doesn't say anything. Just lets Billie off her lead, puts the groceries on the counter, hangs up his coat.

“What happened to resting?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh really?”

Huck nodded. And Jordan crouched down to kiss him between the eyes. “Say it again?”

Jordan grins. And he does.

“One more time.”

And Jordan let out a delighted little noise.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that,” he sighed. “I’m going to start some breakfast. Take your time.”

“Wait.”

“For what?”

In the pocket of his blood spattered coat the alarm on his watch went off. Perhaps, on the other side of the city a woman and her son were stepping off a train. And he pulled Jordan close, holding him tight, threading his fingers deep in his hair.

The minute passes. The alarm stops. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So friends, this is it.  
> It's been fun but it's over.  
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading!


End file.
